


Downtown Stores

by RimBoomGold



Series: Red Hood [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: (Quick) Torture, Abduction, God give me strength to actually write, I said roman sionis but really he's more mentioned than anything else, Jason Todd/Roman Sionis - Freeform, M/M, Robbery, Severe Anger Issues, he's there for like 2 sec really, heavy mention of drugs, mentioned relationship with sionis but not the focus of this one shot, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RimBoomGold/pseuds/RimBoomGold
Summary: As always, Jason needs to make a living, and Roman Sionis has an opportunity for him ; one that includes a robbery, Slade Wilson and regrets.
Series: Red Hood [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635976
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Downtown Stores

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing much to say for this one tbh, just a trip to write, enjoy o/  
> Like always I took some inspiration for the idea, and this time it was the clip "The Hills" from the Weeknd  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzTuBuRdAyA great stuff

Jason should've never agreed to that job and that paycheck, or should've asked for a bigger one. A robbery at the most prestigious jewelry store on the East side with a war veteran sporting a triple digit body count, all that in freezing temperatures.

"What could go wrong..." he said out loud to give himself some company, seeing as leaning against the lone wall of a wasteland that reeked of piss tended to underline loneliness and financial regrets. At times, when he felt like going back to his small but warm rented room downtown, the number "ten thousand" echoed in his head like a catchy song, the amount that Roman told him he would earn for that job.

Taking all the facts into account, he braced himself in the warmest sweatshirt he had found in his closet and waited for Wilson to come, mindful of every sound that would betray the latter's arrival. He didn't hear anything, but the year he had spent training under billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne's supervision taught him to follow his instinct when there was no striking clue. So, remembering his lessons, he focused on slowing down his breathing rhythm, shutting off every useless information like the crickets chirping in the grass or the midnight train approaching from his mind until only the beating of his own heart mattered. Bruce wasn't a man who believed in mythical abilities that much, at least for mortal beings, but as someone who always exceeded human boundaries he believed that detecting someone's presence was a primal skill that anyone could unlock.

And as he expected, he vaguely sensed something or rather someone's beating heart after a long while. It was right above him, almost too slow and heavy to belong to a human being. He snapped his head back and looked up the very moment he was sure of his impression, only to see a large figure crouching on top of the tall wall.

"It took you two and a half minutes, Todd. You could've been killed and buried three times."

\- Wilson.

He really wished he had controlled that shiver in his voice. Jason wasn't afraid of Bruce because despite all of his strength, he was easily predictable after a few weeks of warming up. He wasn't afraid of Roman either, even before meeting him, since all of his unpredictability couldn't make up for his average physical built.

Wilson was the worst of both worlds. Jason had first heard of him during the month he helped Bruce investigate the ruthless murder of a politician, and while he got to take a peek at Deathstroke's profile, Bruce didn't want him to see any picture of the corpse. "Why, the guy's that ugly?" He had made that grim joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. He later discovered, when he managed to get his hands on Bruce's extended files, that the old man couldn't have answered him anyway since the whole head was missing.

"Kids say "Mister" before the last name." he answered as he leaped from the two-story tall wall and landed in complete, chilling silence. "Sionis already told you everything you need to know, I suppose."

\- Yeah, Rom-" he stuttered, irritated to have let Wilson hear that mark of familiarity, "-he told me when, where and roughly what kind of jewelry but very little detail about the process itself."

\- Makes sense. He is a lot of things but a dimwit isn't one of them, he figured the weak link should know the least. Pick up your backpack, let's go."

Jason wanted to retort to the weak link comment but the wiser part of him decided that he would stay silent and get on with it. Instead of taking the main road to the jewelry store, they crossed the wasteland and took a pathway under the large bridge to avoid any witness who might identify them or rather their persona, given their respective masks. The store was only ten minutes away from their point of departure, situated in a middle-working class area.

When they reached the alley behind the store, Wilson took an old watch from the pocket of his gear and checked the time :

"0014." He said in a low voice, "Sionis told me he had an insider who inspected the security system last week ; its weakness is that every night from 0015 to 0020 it reboots, meaning the alarm won't work, the storekeeper probably hoped nobody would know. We'll have five minutes to break in, take the cameras down, take the goods and disappear."

Jason frowned at all the efforts Roman made for that specific robbery, knowing that going for jewelry money was never the man's field to begin with ; something didn't feel right.

"Why did we come to this one store? The police is constantly passing through those roads and there's a shitload of crowded buildings around. I can't believe he would chose this one, It's bad plan 101."

\- Good instinct, bad mouth. Shut up and let's be done with it."

When the clock hit 12:15, Wilson kicked the door open as easily as if it wasn't double-locked. They slipped into the back room, where Jason pulled out the silencer gun he kept in his backpack and immediately shot the three cameras that were fixed to the walls. Wilson strode towards the big metal vault at the far corner, took his own silencer gun from his holster and fired at the lock keeping it closed. Their combined action had taken no longer than fifteen seconds since they both knew they couldn't afford to lose time. 

Jason joined him where he crouched, in front of the open vault full of various necklaces and rings that shone in the dark, placed on velvet trays.

He held his backpack wide open and Wilson dropped every jewel in it, making sure nothing was left behind.

"All right, let's go." Jason said, not without some relief at the idea that the operation was a success.

But Wilson wasn't listening to him, he kept staring at the empty vault and despite the mask hiding his face Jason sensed that something frustrated him.

"What you're waiting for? Let's get out of here!" 

\- It's not here.

\- What's not here?"

\- The drugs. The jeweler is working for Sionis, he hid twenty pounds of cocaine for him in his premisses because the last place the police would look for it is a respected private business. Despite being asked over and over again to give the load back, he never did, that's the reason we're here."

Suddenly everything made sense to Jason, the employment of a highly-skilled veteran, the risks taken in a neighbourhood under heavy surveillance. The jewels were only a bonus, one that was still worth a few thousands but nothing compared to the two hundred thousand dollars that twenty pounds of pure coke represented.

"Roman, you mad fucking dog..." Jason said in a way that barely managed to hide his admiration.

\- Anyway, Sionis gave me the storekeeper's address in case that would happen. We'll pay him a good visit."

For the second time that night Jason found himself waiting in the same unforgiving cold wind that drove him crazy, yet this time around he had been assigned the task of being on the watch at the gates of their target's outrageously big house. Wilson had snuck into the residence a few minutes ago, dodging every security check with ease. Only the calm rustling of leaves on trees could be heard in uptown neighbourhoods at night as opposed to the rowdy city center, making him reflect on how unbothered and out-of-touch rich people's lives could be.

He was still stuck in his daydream when Wilson reappeared, carrying the unmoving body of a middle-age man over his broad shoulder. Jason studied the target quickly and could swear he had already seen him elsewhere.

"That's him?"

\- Correct," Wilson answered as he fetched a set of keys from his pocket, "we'll take one of his cars to get to the old truck factory next to the docks, I'll drive."

-Yes sir." he replied to mock the other man's imperious tone, but above all to get his mind off the fact that they were taking a passed out man to a second area. He genuinely wished for their target's sake that he would tell them everything before damage would be done.

The man laid unconscious on the backseat during the whole drive, which made them ironically more tense than having a talking, complaining person behind them. At least one knew more or less what someone who expressed themselves was up to.

They arrived at the former truck factory fifteen minutes later, where they unloaded the body from the car and walked towards the hangar only to find the rusty door already open. Jason took a look around the whole large area, found a homeless man sleeping between two old machines and woke him up gently, gave him a few dollars and told him to go away for an hour or two. Wilson watched the tired man collect his few belongings and rush out of the building.

"You're showing some mercy, it does seem like Sionis hasn't completely rubbed off on you yet."

\- Having a bit of money in one's pocket is always useful when sleeping outside. And you'd be surprised about _him_ , he's not heartless, he's simply realistic. 

"Don't blind yourself, kid." he said as he examined the width of a rope he picked up from a box behind a truck wheel.

He cut the rope in several sections, then took a tarp from his own bag that he laid on the floor and tied their target to the only chair left in the deserted room.

"We're not going to keep him too long, huh?" Jason asked instead, trying to keep his mind off the topic when he went to the hangar entrance and turned the light switch on, giving the room a yellow hue that highlighted its unsanitary state.

\- Everything depends entirely on his cooperation. Wake him up."

Jason walked up behind the chair and pinched the man's shoulder muscle harshly, a move that made him startle in his seat and brought him back to consciousness. He groaned and looked around in a confused haze. He cast his eyes on Wilson, gasped a bit, and all three of them knew that he recognized Deathstroke's infamous black and orange mask.

"David, we don't need to know much. Just where you hid the coke."

Said David's ankles and wrists were bound to the chair back and legs respectively, but he still twitched and attempted to free himself from his position.

"I don't know you... cocaine? That's crazy..."

Wilson sighed deeply, a rumbling sound that invaded the space. The last thing anyone there wanted to see was him losing patience.

Jason took over the situation :

"Listen man, Dave, we're not trying to make it difficult, we're friends with Roman Sionis and we just want to know where to find the twenty pounds of coke he lent to you, that's all."

David's glanced towards Jason, then asked casually :

"That voice...I've already seen you at Sionis's place, didn't I? you were there…"

-...maybe it was me, I told you he sent us here.

\- Yeah all right. Well, I'm afraid I won't tell you anything."

Jason rolled his eyes and longed for his bed or his anything else at home.

"Why?" Wilson asked.

\- I've been offered a new deal for the drugs storage by someone else, so I changed my plans and hid it in a place me and my new associate agreed on. You can detain me here all night long, I wouldn't-

\- We've got no time for this..." Wilson took one of David's wrist and threatened to break it, much to the later's surprise.

\- Wait! wait." Jason said, secretly quite uncomfortable at the idea of actual torture. He tried the long approach :

"Your legitimate business is booming already, everyone and their mother know about your store. believe me, man, no one like you needs to mess around with outlaws. Just talk and everything will be wrapped up, we'll all go home cause it's been a damn long day and you'll still be in one piece," he turned to Wilson, "right?"

The veteran didn't give any answer, and despite being slightly troubled by that quietness, Jason carried on :

"Dude, the name of the guy and the location, you won't get a hundred chan-."

\- I definitely know that grating voice," he said, looking at Jason with an amused air full of contempt, "You're Roman's bitch, aren't you?"

There was one or two seconds of whiplash in Jason's mind, then an inhumane force grew instantly in his chest and every limb when he heard the word. Said word felt worse than going through a beating in broad daylight or having a knife against one's head ; it meant submission and disrespect, weakness.

"I'll blow your fucking brains out if you say that again! I fucking dare you!"

He didn't even recognized his own voice when he shouted those thoughts out loud. The rest of the world had disappeared, he stood there with that overwhelming anger that focused entirely on the man in front of him, that wanted to see him bleeding his life out on the ground. Wilson hadn't said anything or made the slightest move but he was unmistakably more alert, lurking silently from the sidelines behind the mask.

Then a wave of self-awareness hit Jason, who realized that during his quick rage he had pulled out his gun from his sloppily closed bag and held it hard in his hand. He stared down at it for a moment as the heavy pounding in his chest eased down and started pacing around the room to stop even more racing thoughts from invading his mind.

"I'm no one's bitch. Be careful, be _very_ careful." he said when he was finally able to stand still, then took off his mask and spat on the floor right at their captive's feet. At that sight, Wilson only made the plainest sound of acknowledgement, probably understanding after all the time spent in Gotham that boys in the southside used such a language to mean that business issues became personal bad blood.

" "Simply realistic", you said…" he told Jason when he turn around, fetched a wooden box lying against the wall and sat down on it to lay back "...then go ahead, kid, show the gentleman how realistic you can be."

Jason was in a state where he didn't or rather couldn't pay attention to him anymore, Wilson was a voice far away in his space, but the vague idea of his suggestion reached him perfectly. Their captive reminded him of a dog that bit his forearm when he was fourteen ; since for some reason he couldn't remember the assault much, including his own reaction, his friends confessed that the blood trickling down his fingers and knuckles afterwards didn't belong to him, and that they had to throw what was left of the poor animal into a dumpster.

He had told that story to Roman once, who, unlike many others who had either been shocked or concerned, blew smoke from his cigarette, laughed and stated : "He bit more than he could chew, that's why he ended up in the landfill." Jason often thought of that laugh and that comment during his random daydreams, never really knowing how to feel about them.

"I see through guys like you very clearly, vermin that talk big, act big, want your and your neighbour's piece of the cake too, but never had to see a man die for it. Old money, Daddy's paying up for the girlfriends, the house and cars, schools and opportunities? Fuck off. Me? I'm no daddy's bitch. Not daddy's, not Sionis's, not the system's. He earned his own shit, just like I'm doing right now for making your sorry ass speak, and I swear on the names of all the guys who grew up with me that I'll make you speak."

David's face dropped, all the confidence that was flashing in his eyes crumbled down and he was left looking quite terrified, though he still tried to maintain his composure. 

"You won't make me talk."

\- Yeah?" He was seething again and drew closer to the captive.

\- Why don't you just acce-"

Jason didn't let him finish the sentence ; he gripped the other the man's shoulder with one hand, digging his fingers deep into the flesh, and took his inner elbow with the other, then started twisting the arm in an unnatural angle. David groaned at first, then started screaming as tears gathered under his lashes.

"How about now, "bitch" ?

\- Let me go!

He twisted the arm even further, making it bend to its limit despite knowing that the wrist remained stuck against the chair.

"I asked you a question!

\- Fuck you!"

With one sharp move he broke the elbow joint, leading to a terribly clear cracking sound that made even Wilson shift a bit in his seat. David slouched and bowed his head in resignation:

"The man is Cobblepot. The backstore of the huge department store down the main avenue, next to the museum, the place we agreed on."

His sobbing made his diction sloppy but he had told everything they needed to hear. Jason let the broken arm go and, guided by a strength that didn't feel like his own, grabbed his gun again, shoved the barrel into the man's mouth and shot him from the inside out.

Their captive's corpse and the chair slumped onto the floor together and Jason blinked several times at that sight, as if to wake up from a foggy dream. It wasn't the gunshot that brought him back down to earth, but rather the blood splatters that had flown from David's mouth and come crashing down against his face.

"What did we do?"

Wilson remained silent. Jason tried to focus and listen to their victim's beating heart but everything remained silent.

"What did I do?" 

Warm drops started falling down his cheeks and he assumed it was the dead man's blood, an assumption that turned out to be wrong when he wiped some of them off his skin and saw tears on his palm instead.

_What have I done this time around, mom…_

Wilson took off his own mask and the glance he threw towards the body seemed somewhat sympathetic. "Even I couldn't get rookies at recruitment to do that type of things after years of drilling. Honestly, I don't know if I should congratulate or despise Sionis for what I've just seen." he said in calm and dull voice.

Jason went and sat down on the wooden box, then stayed completely still excepted for his trembling hands, staring into the void as the veteran wrapped up the body in the tarp and make all evidence of their presence disappear. 

When he showed up at Roman's residence carrying a large bag full of drugs and jewelry the following evening, he was welcomed with one of those damned kisses, the ones that led him to drop everything he was holding. He didn't plan to stay, just to take the paycheck bills and go, but Roman dragged him swiftly into the house and told him to stay 'a bit longer'. And as usual, half an hour later, there was already an empty bottle of vodka standing on the bedside and white powder under both of their noses. He lied naked over the satin sheets with only the moonlight casting some lighting in the bedroom, next to Roman who was eating an apple that supposedly made up for all the unhealthy choices during the night.

"You want a bite?" He asked Jason out of the blue and the young man obliged his boss when he finally forced himself to eat something after twenty four hours of bad appetite. He tried his best not to feel filthy despite all the coke grains that remained on his upper body, a result of Roman's questionable whim that consisted of snorting the goods right off his chest and belly. But feeling numb and dirty always hurt less than sobriety and the realizations that came with it.

"This one's for the jewels," Roman dropped a kiss on his sweaty forehead, "this one, for the drugs," he dropped another one on the sensitive part of his throat, "and this one… for tonight." He kissed him on the lips, holding him close just right and the rest of the big bad world vanished again from Jason's point of view, who had the dangerous thought that he could die satisfied where he lied, filthy or not.

He didn't say a word when the topic of the abduction and the murder came up, unlike Roman who described his plans for the dead body and as usual, he mentioned the landfill as a great location to drop the corpse in between two mouthfuls.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get better at this writing thing so if you have any remark (both of positive and/or negative points) absolutely feel free to share it, no problem 
> 
> Peace xo


End file.
